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The City had succumbed to absolute chaos over the last few months; which at first, to the Nephilim was absolutely, without a doubt, entertaining. There were many times that she found the city to be somewhat sleepy if she took away the drama which surrounded The Bradford siblings with their Father as well as the trouble that she often found Siobhan in. Those moments of down time were usually welcomed, but as of late, things in her own life seemed somewhat normal, thus, the chaos which erupted in the city was just what the doctor ordered. It gave the ex-assassin reason to get herself into fights, and get away with it if her Detective Sister questioned her once again why her knuckles were battered and bruised. Not only did this give her a form of entertainment, it also served her as a distraction; many would not believe that she had allowed herself to open up to a guy, yet she had - only for him to disappear from the face of the earth, like a few before him. So, it was so surprise, at least to her, that she needed to keep herself occupied so she could stop her thoughts from venturing to her terrible love life. However, there were only so many fights she could get into, without that getting boring; after all, she had spent most of her life in battle, or maybe, she was simply growing up.
Once Rissa had completed her good deed of the day - cleaning up the messes of the latest violent breakout, she couldn't think of any better reward than the local bar to drink herself into a state of oblivion which would consequently help her sleep at night. The Nephilim placed herself at the corner of the bar, and insisted that the barman kept an open tab for her considering it was still very early in the evening and she had nothing planned for the following day. With the beer in hand, she eagerly took a very needed swig which triggered a pleasurable sigh to bypass her lips. The barman began to make small talk with her, which under any normal circumstance, she would have hated yet for some peculiar reason, the chat was welcomed even if she had no interest in the conversation or the latest gossip of who went home with who from the bar last night. With that in mind, she playfully placed a series of bets with the man behind the bar on who would be next to leave with another; and it was safe to say that her name never made the list of potentials which pleased her despite many trying their luck over the last few years of her frequenting the bar.
The hours passed fairly quickly, in fact, they passed just as quickly as the beers in her hand did; in fact, she even surprised herself just how quickly she knocked back the alcohol - clearly something was bothering her and, as normal, she was not ready to face the problem head on. Avoidance was key. Clarissa began to slump on the stool, her spine arching as she rested her arms on the bar, and then her cheek on her forearms; the bar man insisted she should head home which consequently lead to her snapping a quick 'no' his direction - she was not ready to face her thoughts alone, not yet. Her lavender coloured eyes closed contently as she listened to the buzz around her; from the music, to people simply enjoying themselves but none of those were enough to completely catch her attention until one particular voice spoke above the music to order their next round. The Nephilim forwarded her brow before lifting her head - her gaze trying to adjust into focus at the male who stood a few stools down from her.
Wyatt Brookes? No way, it couldn't be - it definitely had to be her beer goggles playing tricks on her mind. Confused and rather baffled were the only words which could be used to describe her expression as she looked over at the male; yet the moment she found him catching her stare, she quickly and rather unsteadily composed herself to focus on the beer bottle in her hand. "You know it's rude to stare?" She slurred ever so slightly but loud enough for the male to hear her; it was him, it was definitely him and to not give him the satisfaction that she could remember him, she would play aloof and dumb to his being.
The tips of Wyatt's fingers grazed softly up and down her arm as his mind wandered to the events that had brought them to where they were now. It was all an unbelievable nightmare. Thinking of the torture Clarissa had endured made him pull her a little tighter against him as he relived the awfulness of having to remove her other wing. He couldn't imagine what that would even be like for someone of her kind, but Clarissa's resilience seemed endless, despite all of the terrible things she must've been through that he knew nothing about.
He lifted his head slightly at her whispered words that finally broke the silence, but her thank you fell to the quiet once again when she fell asleep against him. Wyatt took hold of the bedding and slowly draped it over them with the hopes of not waking her, though he imagined not much could disturb Clarissa with how exhausted she must've been feeling. He wasn't long for the waking world either as his heavy lids closed and restless sleep instantly took him hold when his head touched the pillow again.
Wyatt was back in the cage of the building Abigail had brought he and Clarissa too. The nephilim was laying there less a wing and blood pooled around her and onto the floor. His hands grasped at the bars feeling helpless until the door opened on its own accord. It was deja vu all over again as Wyatt's hand shook while standing over Clarissa, hesitating on taking the second wing from her, but just as before he mustered up the will and did as she asked.
There was something in him that was different this time. Wyatt walked around to face the door as the masked men came charging in and looked to the blade that was on the blood covered floor which he had just used to remove Clarissa's wing. The dark magic that nearly killed him began to course through his body, pumping like an adrenaline shot to the chest. His veins turned black and spidered up his arms until it fully consumed him, leaving his eyes to match the same dark ichor and complete emptiness. Wyatt didn't know how the binding magic Abigail had put on the place was no longer holding him back as he telepathically sent the blade across the throats of each man that entered the room, but if he had to guess, it was because of the unstable power inside him now. Watching their bodies fall to the floor and slowly bleed out as they grasped at the wounds was about the most gratifying feeling he'd ever known.
Abigail moved into the room next, making him tilt his head at her. Her constant self-satisfied expression instantly fell as her eyes moved about the scene and Wyatt didn't hesitate to raise his hand towards her and recite the heart stopping spell which he'd learned from the very grimoire that had made him more powerful than he'd ever been in his life. She instantly clutched at her chest and cried out in agony, begging for him to stop which only brought a smirk to his lips. Wyatt twisted his wrist around and clenched his fingers tighter as if it were his hand that was physically squeezing her heart. He could hear Clarissa's voice calling to him from over his shoulder, but he ignored her concerned distress. Abigail's gasps came shorter and more ragged until she finally stopped moving and died with her eyes wide open.
Wyatt turned to face Clarissa and saw the hesitation on her face. He stepped closer to the angel and she immediately moved backwards from him. The waves of fear seemed to radiate from her and he suddenly felt the power of her species trying to work its way into his mind. Wyatt immediately pushed back, creating a shield that wouldn't allow her to penetrate. Was she scared? How could she try to manipulate him? No one would ever do that to him. No one.
Clarissa's back was soon against the wall and she was using all her leftover will to keep him at bay, but it wasn't enough. A trickle of blood ran from his nose as he brought his forearm against her neck and pressed her against the wall. He knew the pain of bringing her wounds against the wall would be excrutiating and it made him chuckle at her agony before the rage took over that she would even think to try and stop him. Clarissa tried to fight him off, but that only enraged Wyatt more as he pressed harder and watched as the grip she had in his shirt began to weaken while somewhere in the back of his mind, he tried to stop himself, but couldn't. The magic had completely taken hold of him and it was like his conscious had been trapped in a prison and could do nothing no matter how loudly it screamed and begged for it all to stop.
The world around him suddenly became fuzzy and crumbled away until the brightness of the sun pulled his attention from Clarissa. Wyatt's blackened eyes began to change back into their normal green hues and when he looked to the nephilim, she stood there smiling to him, but clearly somewhat playfully annoyed. His hands were still on Clarissa, but they had fallen gently to her shoulders and he was repositioning her against a wall for a photo which had painted wings displayed on the gothic brick for people to stand in front of; Something she wasn't very keen on, he knew, though he was going to make her do it anyway. The nightmare from before began to fade away and this new memory of Prague began to take its place. It was a time he hadn't thought about in a long time, but it was one of his fondest because he got to see a different side of her; One where Clarissa genuinely smiled.
Wyatt exhaled slowly as he woke from the dream unsure of how long he'd actually been having it. That was the way of the dreamworld though. Time didn't seem to work the same. His gaze moved down to Clarissa as she lay against him and began to stir from her own sleep. A flash of the nightmare crossed in front of his mind as she reached out to him, but vanished in the same moment when her fingertips lightly touched his face. Wyatt leaned slightly into her touch with a soft smile as he laced his fingers in hers and kissed them. Her request to pretend like this was the morning after they'd been together made him give a slight scoff and drift away for a moment. What he wouldn't give to have the real magic to go back in time. Wyatt had the feeling she wasn't really ready to face everything that had happened and he couldn't blame her; he didn't even know where to start himself.
His gaze found Clarissa's again as he turned on his side to face her. The horrible nightmare taunted him as he looked at her, but he didn't give away how much it had really affected him even now when he was awake and especially after last night. "I had some.. interesting dreams. One when we were in Prague together many moons ago. Remember?" Wyatt smiled to her, but swallowed the lump in his throat that was filled with the fear that he might actually hurt her somehow if he couldn't shake the slight relapse from the Archives that could've pushed him over the edge.
The way in which he paused before bringing up the dream which she had placed in his mind gave her a slight chill; yet, she couldn’t say she was completely surprised when she recalled the way his body reacted to whatever was going on in his unconscious state. Clarissa glanced towards their fingers as they intertwined and were brought to his lips softly, that alone created a genuine smile to appear on her own; she had experienced pain, death and torture all before, but the affection he had continuously shown her, even all those years ago was still something completely foreign to her. Yet for the first time, it wasn’t his affection she wanted to run from, in fact, she craved it but it was all the things she was so used to, that she wanted to escape from. Even if it was for the tiniest of moments, like now as they remained under the protection of the sheets.
She laughed and rested her head against the pillow. “I remember, you were so bloody persistent to get me to do a normal thing for a change. Like brooding in a room on a warm summer's day wasn't?” Rissa mused and let her fingers play with his. “I actually kept a lot of the photos that you took that day, it was a day that reminded me that I could be more than the machine that I was groomed into being” Her nostrils flared as she exhaled, there was a lot she could thank Wyatt for, and that was just one of the many things he had done for her, probably without even realising it. The sense of uneasiness radiated from him, even though it wasn’t prominent - it was still enough for Clarissa to acknowledge it and she wished to address it but not yet; addressing it would lead to the conversation of the shared trauma and experience.
Soon enough, she pushed herself up into a seated position and her facial features grimaced, the back of her teeth clenched together to try and ground the pain which soared through her body. Clarissa could feel his t-shirt cling to her back from the sweat which was produced from her dreams, and more than likely her wounds that had also wept throughout the hours; she peeled the fabric away from her back and breathed. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think a shower, coffee and food is very much needed. Bar peanuts can only keep you going for so long” She used the lighthearted comment as a much needed distraction from what her body was trying to make her face as she glanced at the diviner beside her.
Clarissa patted his thigh in a ‘get up and go’ manner that she certainly didn’t have herself and reluctantly got out of bed. As she stood, she paused as her eyes fell upon their clothes and a flashback of when they beated her back to release her wings suddenly appeared before her; she wobbled and found herself using the headboard for support. “I’m fine, I am” She tried to reassure him when she caught Wyatt’s worried reaction; but was she fine? Rissa nodded and crouched down to her pile of clothes and reached for the phone she took from Abigail and placed it upon the chest of drawers.
She waited for Wyatt to remove himself from the twisted sheets and followed him on the brief tour of his house towards the bathroom. If it were any normal morning, she would have certainly offered him to join her, but she had yet to see the physical impact her torture had left upon her body; and she dreaded to see her scars. “I won’t use up all the hot water” Clarissa teasingly reassured before she found herself alone as Wyatt mentioned about making the coffee. Turning the shower on, Clarissa waited for the water to heat up by finding a comb and roughly attempted to get the bristles through the blood knotted strands; each yank caused her to groan in frustration and she found herself throwing the comb across the room and swiped some of his toiletries from the sink to the ground. The steam had eventually coated the mirror, and with the palm of her hand she brushed some of the condensation away and simply stared at her reflection for a long while before getting undressed.
The hot water felt nice against her skin as it washed away the blood which felt like it had permanently attached itself to her flesh as well as the invisible masks that guards had left upon her. As the moments drifted by, she sunk down the wall and simply sat in the shower with her knees brought up to her chest. Clarissa took that very moment to let the sound of the shower to muffle her cries which suddenly erupted from her; the water blended with her tears and for that she was grateful, not that she ever thought Wyatt would judge her for something so humane and natural to do.
"C'mon Bradford" Rissa patted her own cheeks to encourage her to stand up and finish cleaning up before she stepped out of the shower. Using the towels provided, she patted herself dry and rubbed her hair long enough to stop it dripping down her back. The Nephilim stood in front of the body length mirror and twisted to see her scars; she had never seen a Nephilim with red scars before but she had read about them and knew that besides the reality she was facing, she'd have a long road ahead of her if she wished to get them back.
She sighed heavily and slipped into a jumper of his; Rissa waited and rubbed her eyes before she left the bathroom to head towards the kitchen. Before she reached that area of the house, or notified him of her presence, she stood at the corner and watched him. This was just as much about him also, how was this impacting him? Not only in those few hours had he done the unimaginable and removed a Nephilim wing but he had almost succumbed to murder. Wyatt wouldn't have had to go through those two ordeals if she had just kept her distance in the bar.
"Since when could you cook, hm?" She commented playfully stepping forward as if the emotional breakdown moments ago didn't happen.
Wyatt couldn't help but smirk a little knowing that she had kept some of the photos he'd taken of their time together. It was more than he expected to hear and he was happy to to have been able to take Clarissa's mind off of the demands of the League and bring her some normalcy in a few small glimpses of their time together then. Somehow it felt like a lifetime ago and at at time when they were two different people. He pulled his gaze away and lowered his head for a moment as he thought of what heavy a burden that might come with for them now until he felt her shift on the bed. The discomfort on her face was clear and he felt the pang of empathy in his heart. She of course was as stoic as ever and he only nodded in agreement to her suggestion of food. It didn't even occur to him how hungry he really was since it wasn't at the forefront of his mind.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed shortly trying to will himself up while grabbing a shirt nearby to pull over his head. Avoiding the reality of the world forever was an impossible dream no matter how much he wished to keep it at bay and stay wrapped in the comfort of his bed with her. Wyatt's hues moved over to the angel again as he could survey her more closely without her noticing now that her back was to him. The catalog of spells that might be able to help with the healing and rid her of the pain started to cycle through his mind until he watched her falter. Wyatt instinctively reached out, but of course she relayed that she was fine which only made him worry more.
Eyeing the phone that Clarissa had swiped from Abigail, he told himself he'd do the proper research into what the hell was going on with everything when they were through with breakfast and a bit of more normalcy. Wyatt quickly pointed out the second bathroom that was off to the side of his guest room so she wouldn't have to endure the mess of his clothes all over the floor of his ensuite from when he had hurried to get ready to go out before all of the crazy had crashed down upon them. His modest, but modern home was simple since most of the time he was never there and was instead off traveling for work or adventure. The entire space was an open concept and could be seen from one end to the other. When he'd finally been able to afford to live the way he chose, he made sure the home was fitted to his needs and that included the many large windows throughout to bring in the sunlight.
"Use all the water you want," Wyatt replied to her joke with a soft smile as he leaned on the door frame of the bathroom for a few moments looking at her before shutting the door. Walking into the living room, he tidied up the disarray of papers and scrolls, stacking them on the pile of books and maps that were on his desk. "Slightly less chaotic at least." Wyatt moved to the old record player he had set up against the wall and lifted one of the jackets out to put on a favorite Zeppelin album before busying about the kitchen. To be doing anything more than turning on the coffee maker was a little strange for him when he was normally so used to ordering delivery or going out. The bachelor life had made him rather lazy in that way, but it was also because he was always on the move and usually late to some appointment or shoot he'd completely forgotten about.
He'd gotten lost in the task of trying to prepare something edible when Clarissa's voice finally broke his concentration. Wyatt turned his head towards her and chuckled with a shrug of his shoulder. "Would hardly call this cooking," he replied, flipping the sizzling bacon in the pan with a grin. "I'm a one trick pony. Breakfast is my forte and I'm not too bad on a grill, I suppose, but it's been years so don't get your hopes up that this might even be digestible. It's a wonder I haven't burned the place down yet." Reaching into the cupboard, he pulled down a pair of mugs and set them aside before finally turning around to face her. Seeing Clarissa in his clothing made him smile as it looked far better on her than him. It was a sight he wouldn't mind seeing more often. She appeared in better spirits, but he couldn't help noticing that her eyes seemed to hold the hint of spilled tears.
After pouring his cup of coffee and adding far more sugar and creamer than the average person would, Wyatt leaned back against the counter for a moment. The silence between them hung in the air for a moment only leaving the soft music to blanket the elephant in the room. He wanted to ask her how she was doing in every sense of the meaning. It was hard to push all the questions aside when he felt like much of it was his own fault.
The bell from the toaster broke the awkwardness as the words seemed to hang from his lips. He turned and took a sip from his mug instead to swallow the idea before sliding the plates over and quickly tossing a slice on each. When he sufficiently divvied out the eggs and bacon, Wyatt handed Clarissa the food and nodded towards the kitchen bar top and couple of stools for her to sit while he gathered up the utensils and condiments. "Welcome to Cafe Brookes. Tips are encouraged."
The smell which danced within the air made the Nephilim smile but more importantly made her stomach rumble rather aggressively; her lower lip twitched downward albeit in a playful manner just in case Wyatt showed any indication that he had heard it. Yet she doubted he heard a thing given the amount of noise the bacon was making as it spat up at him. Clarissa mused silently and leaned against the counter top as she watched him at work; she wasn't quite sure what she preferred, seeing his sleepy expression as they woke up this morning, or him cooking for her. "Thankfully, right about now I could probably eat just about anything, including things my stomach would later disagree on" She laughed and smirked a little at his comment before taking a quick glance around his home again; Clarissa didn't expect anything different when she imagined what his home might have looked like. "Oh c'mon. I don't believe you're that bad for a second.”
She was thankful that he had chosen to put some music on whilst he slaved away in the kitchen, it made the still heavy silence that loomed over them somewhat more bearable; and it was this silence that made the realisation true - they couldn’t avoid the conversation for that much longer. Clarissa exhaled softly before pushing herself away to pour her own mug of coffee just as the toast popped upward; she poured very little milk into the mug, she didn’t need to water it down, not this time. She placed the mug down at the bar that he had nodded to before collecting her plate and moving to prop herself up onto the stool. “I don’t have any cash with me, but I’m sure I can find other ways to tip you” Rissa teased as she began to place the bacon on one side of the toast; when Wyatt finally joined her, she picked up the ketchup and squeezed the red sauce onto the bacon before making it into a sandwich.
“Moment of truth” Clarissa grinned and took a bite of her now bacon sarnie, she had to lean forward over the plate so it could catch the ketchup which fell out. “Not bad, Brookes” She smiled and wiped her lips slightly so that she could finally take a swig of her coffee; but there was certainly something missing from it. Clarissa slipped from the stool cautiously and walked round into the kitchen area before making herself completely at home by going through all of his kitchen cupboards until she finally came across what she was looking for. With a devilish grin, she spun round to face Wyatt holding the bottle of whiskey rather proudly; Rissa shook the bottle and waggled her eyebrows as she retook her place on the stool and twisted the cap off.
She sniffed the alcohol at first which caused a slight shiver to run down her spine before she poured some of its contents into her coffee; some would argue perhaps too much. Clarissa caught Wyatt looking at her from the corner of her eye and offered him the bottle once she was done. “What? It is five o’clock somewhere in the world” She prompted and took a swig from her now Irish coffee which tasted much better before digging back into her breakfast before she allowed it to get cold.
The alcohol was needed and it helped numb the constant ache which felt as if her scars were twitching as they tried to heal; and because of that, the rest of her coffee was finished far quicker than it really should have been. Finishing her alcohol laced coffee only triggered the craving for more. Once the two had finished with their breakfast, she picked up their empty plates and placed them into the sink along with the cutlery. Now that the distraction of food was out of the way, Rissa knew that the conversation was coming and the elephant in the room was going to be addressed; typically, she was one to face a conversation like this head on. Yet this one involved emotions, and they were certainly conversations she had a habit of avoiding like the plague.
The music once again eased as much awkwardness as it possibly could and she felt Wyatt’s presence just off her shoulder; Clarissa turned to face him and ran her fingers through her now drying hair and simply bit the bullet whilst she had some liquid courage in her system. “I don’t think we can avoid this much longer and I guess running from the conversation is completely out of the question?”
She could feel her stomach already twisting and a tightness in her chest which created a slight lump within her throat. Clarissa nodded softly and grabbed the bottle of whiskey as she led them to the sofa; once she sat down, she kept the bottle in her lap as a form of comforter and waited, hoping Wyatt would somehow know where to start.
Wyatt slid onto the barstool next to hers and smirked softly at her teasing reply to his quip about tipping. He began to take a sip from his coffee, but paused as she started to carefully maneuver the food around on her plate. His eyebrow raised as Clarissa made the newly formed sandwich and topped it off with the ketchup he'd brought over. "A woman after my own heart," he commented, watching her take the first bite with anticipation. Her confirmation that he'd done well enough to pass edible made him chuckle and follow suit into making his own breakfast sandwich which was of course always a good option after a rough night. Messily, Wyatt piled his sandwich high and took a bite, making a satisfied face and giving himself a mental pat on the back. Not bad, indeed, Brookes.
He sipped his coffee just as she wiggled off the seat and headed into the kitchen. Cocking his head slightly to watch her, Wyatt was going to inquire what she might be looking for, but Clarissa's triumphant smile and presentation of the whiskey bottle showed she'd found exactly what it was she was after. He held back his sly comment and instead only smirked as she came back over and poured herself a healthy amount of the alcohol into her mug before offering the golden liquid to him. Wyatt extended his coffee to her and chuckled. "No judgement here, Love. Five o'clock or ten in the morning, whiskey is always a good choice."
When they had finished with their food, she was quick to take their plates to clean up. His gaze followed Clarissa as it always seemed to do when she was around, but it held hesitancy now which made him sigh shakily. He didn't want to keep the unsaid hanging between them forever and no matter how much he wished to avoid the whole conversation, Wyatt didn't want what happened last night to ruin the something that had just started between them. The rest of the coffee went down in a couple gulps as he walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Seeing Clarissa's expression, Wyatt knew without her words that she had been thinking the same as he had.
He followed behind as she made her way towards the living room. Wyatt grabbed two of the glasses from his mini bar in passing and sank into the sofa next to Clarissa, waiting for her to pour him the first of a few he had the feeling they would be going through each. His green hues moved to the liquid in the cup before taking a sip and blowing out a soft breath he didn't know he was holding. "I think since your past was so nicely shared with the class without a vote that I should go first now," he said with a scoff and shook his head before delving into the passed year which had been one of the worst of his long life.
"An ex and I flew to Ireland and found a grimoire that had been in my family for centuries. It dated back to the early middle ages and intertwined with both my mother and father's bloodlines, even though my mother was not a diviner, but apparently was tied to royalty oddly enough." His mind went back to the crazy circumstances in which they had went through to get the grimoire. "Fast forward to getting back to the States and I had become obsessed in learning all of the spellwork inside, but a lot of it was dark diviner heavy which meant I needed the help of my ex, also a dark diviner, to really unlock many of its secrets and potential." Wyatt sighed and leaned forward on his knees, finishing the rest of the glass of whiskey and holding it out for more. "It was the most powerful grimoire I'd ever seen and used and it was all mine. The book was made for my family, so it connected immediately with my blood and boy, did I think I'd hit the jackpot. My intentions were good at first; Just a way to help the diviner coven in Evermore, but the magic was cursed in a way and you know the whole saying about good intentions. The more I used the grimoire, the more I became addicted to it and it brought out a part of me that you wouldn't recognize. It twisted the light side of me into this corruption. It was like a drug habit I couldn't kick. I hurt people unnecessarily and I lost control." Wyatt drank from his glass to near empty. "I almost killed my ex because she tried to save me from myself." It was something he would never forgive himself for.
"I went to the Archives near death and pretty much had to go cold turkey since there was no magical cure that could rid me of the addiction. Went through the different stages of sobering up and slipped plenty. I'm too stubborn and cocky and I always think I have control when it's anything but true." Wyatt could feel the dark surge rising in him slowly, wanting to break free from the mental block he always had to keep up. His hand began to tingle slightly and he shook it once, balling his fingers into a fist and relaxing them a few times to rid the oncoming darkness. His green hues showed a self-deprecating sadness as they met Clarissa's eyes finally, feeling utterly vulnerable and far from relieved at sharing the shame of the last year. "Think they have an AA meeting for strung out asshole diviners like myself?" He swallowed the last bit of the drink and sarcasm in his glass and enjoyed the warmth of the alcohol which was coating his chest, hoping that the buzz would come sooner rather than later. "I have a feeling we're going to need more."
It had amused her ever so slightly that he brought two glasses over for them, particularly when she would have been more than happy to drink straight out of the bottle. She extended the bottle and poured a healthy amount of liquid into each glass; once she did that, Rissa quickly examined just how much liquid was actually in the bottle and flared her nostrils ever so slightly. There was a feeling that they perhaps needed another bottle of something to get them through, but this would be okay for now. Clarissa put the bottle down on the floor by their feet and wrapped both hands around the glass which she eagerly brought to her lips at the mere mention of how her past was shared without her consent. Wyatt was still handling that news well, and she had expected a reluctancy to let her close; or even a series of word vomits with all his questions. That, or perhaps the league were not so discreet throughout his employment that there was always a part of him that knew what and who she was but simply didn't want to accept it.
Clarissa turned her body as she crossed her legs to face him completely; from his expression alone, she felt the need to drink on his behalf too. It was weird seeing Wyatt speak of a time where he wasn't the man she knew, now or then and partnered with her naivety to the consequences of strong magic; it was hard but still completely possible to imagine the addiction he experienced from getting his hands on it. The nephilim remained silent and nodded every once and a while to indicate she was listening before she grabbed the bottle to refill his glass. Rissa parted her lips for a moment as she glanced at his hands which continued to clench and relax and automatically, one her own went to rest above his in a hope to ease any tension. In some ways, she understood the withdrawal he was experiencing, when she arrived in Evermore and realised she couldn't conduct violence or murder; it was beyond hard to control herself and her unexpected lash outs. "And what I saw yesterday, when you confronted Abigail, that was the addiction trying to take hold again?" She queried despite already knowing the answer.
The glass found her lips again to finish it as the image of him succeeding in killing Abigail filled her mind. A shiver ran down her spine; the alcohol was working, it was doing its job and taking her attention away from her scars and the emptiness which resided there. "You're stronger than your addiction, Wy. You proved that by not killing her. What did you do with the grimoire? Is it still about?" She rose a brow in his direction in a somewhat, challenging manner. Part of her suspected that it was still somewhere in the city; and if it was as powerful as he suggested, the urge to use said magic would continue to itch beneath his skin for as long as it was intact. "Because if it is still about, you know what you'll need to do, even if it's hard for both your addiction and your need to help improve the coven" Which it would be, she had seen many, many supernatural beings succumb to the allure of addiction before finding themselves in an ugly state of withdrawals.
She mused gently and nodded. "Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if there was and I can be your sponsor" Rissa grinned in a joking manner and glanced down at the bottle which was near on empty now; that alone created a defeated sigh. "How have you been coping with it? Other than the slight relapse last night?" She pressed on softly, and part of her… A major part of her felt that she was responsible for that particular relapse and if it wasn't for the Keeper of the Archives arriving when they did; she doubted both of them would be sitting on the sofa together now. Rissa shifted on the sofa and unfolded her legs beneath her. "But I hope that you do have alcohol, or a secret stash of something because this is doing wonders for pain management" She placed the empty bottle upon the coffee table and examined for a moment before glancing at him.
"You will probably want more of it too if you have any questions on my past within the league." Rissa commented, it was a lifetime which she barely spoke about, to anyone. She couldn't even tell her siblings what it was like, and the gruesome things that she did; she was just lucky to have Isaiah there to share those unspoken conversations when present day got tough. So to speak about any of it, no matter how big or small would be tough, and she had little practice at doing so; and she was scared, the vicious Clarissa Bradford scared. Scared of his reaction, scared of her own reaction, and the trauma it entailed. She scoffed at her thoughts and poured the last dribble of whiskey into her glass. "Fire away, and the good thing about us being here, you know all the exit routes if you don't like what you hear"
Wyatt scoffed, lifting the now empty glass and looking to the bottle that they had nearly finished off already as the answer to her question. "That's mostly how I've been coping." He sighed, thinking back to the horrific nights he'd had to go through in order to get back some type of normality. He stared off at absolutely nothing as the memories came back, but replayed them aloud for her. "At first, I was burning from the inside out. The only way to get rid of the feeling was to keep using the magic, but the way it twisted me into this violent and out of control person was what I always had to keep fighting. I was locked in a room full of runes to suppress my magic and they even took my amulet away." His eyes closed for a moment as he relived some of those endless days and nights. "When the withdrawal was at its worse, I actually plotted how I would murder whoever opened the door to come give me my meals for the day; The few people who knew what I was going through and trusted as friends and family. I thought about killing them just so I could get out and get back to the grimoire." How any of them could forgive what he'd done was still beyond him.
"They hid it and I imagine that would be somewhere in the Archives as that is the safest and most impossible place for me to find it." He opened his eyes which had begun to tear up slightly. Wyatt wondered if it hadn't been for Malva anticipating his motives, would he have actually killed his cousin had the Aspect not pulled her from the room and entered instead. He looked to Clarissa, leaning back against the sofa more comfortably and giving a quick sniffle to swallow the emotions that dared to spill over, finally clearing his throat. "Once I had finally accepted that and was let out into the world without fear of losing it completely, I started traveling a lot more again. Focusing more on photography than magic. I was usually always buried in some new expedition out in the world that might get me to another magical artifact, scroll, or book, but now I'm trying to fall back to my old love of just taking pictures. I've been barely using magic for the little mundane things in life like getting up to grab the remote from across the room instead of telekinetically moving it."
He smiled slightly and stood up, moving to the mini bar and sliding open the door at the bottom to reveal the few bottles of alcohol below. "But, fear not, my lady. There's plenty more where that came from." His green hues scanned the labels of the different brands from around the world of various years before pulling a sixteen year old Irish whiskey out from behind the others. "Was saving these for a special occasion and oh, look," he bowed his head slightly to her then with a grin. "A special occasion seems to be now." The diviner walked back over and refilled them each a very tall glass of the new drink with the hopes that the numbness would start to come soon and would overpower the nagging itch that seemed to scratch at his brain.
Wyatt opted to quickly sit behind her this time as he placed his drink down on the table. He brushed her dark and still slightly damp hair to one side and gently moved his sweater that she was wearing down to fall off one of her shoulders. The scar that he could see of where one of her wings once came from was inflamed and must've hurt more than she was letting on. Not that that surprised him in the least. Wyatt imagined she wouldn't ever show anyone how she was truly feeling. He let out a quick breath and spoke softly, but also sternly. "I'm going to make a salve for this and you're not going to tell me no." The diviner leaned his head over to look at her with a smirk before lightly brushing his lips against her exposed shoulder. Tipsy or not, it was that moment that made him realize something. "Clarissa, I don't want to force you to talk about anything you really don't want to. What you did and went through with the League I'm sure is very personal and I know we've only just reconnected. We were two different people back then."
He slipped his hand into hers and lifted them to kiss her fingers. "I can wait and whatever it is you need from me right now, I will try and give you. I don't want you to feel obligated by spilling everything at this very second, but if you want to share some of what Abigail was talking about, I'll of course listen. You've been through a lot and I feel seriously guilty about it too and I have no idea where to even begin about making it up to you." Wyatt reached for his glass, realizing that even if it was something about Clarissa that he knew he needed to know, having her talk about it now didn't feel right unless she felt right about it herself. "Getting drunk is a very viable option though."